


pretty eyed, a pirate smile

by sparklyturtle



Series: the modern way [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Harry Potter Next Generation, Hogwarts, Hufflepuff, Hufflepuff Pride, Next Generation, Ru Potter not Albus fite me, Weasley Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-01
Updated: 2019-06-01
Packaged: 2020-04-05 18:43:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19046212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparklyturtle/pseuds/sparklyturtle
Summary: Alison Longbottom has long been plagued with the notions of what a Hufflepuff should be, but it is on a rare occasion that she adheres to those notions. A Hufflepuff is loyal and true, sure, but this Hufflepuff is far from perfect.





	pretty eyed, a pirate smile

A Hufflepuff is loyal and true. They can be counted on, relied on, and trusted. 

These words echo through the kitchens every day, every night. They float around the portrait of Cedric Diggory, smiling down from his place above the common room fireplace. Professor Bode reminds her students of it once a week, sliding in the message amid reels of ancient ruins.

A Hufflepuff stands at their friend’s side through thick and thin, supports them and points them in the right direction. Professor Sprout had included this sentiment in her parting speech three years ago, encouraging her house to be good, to be better, to lift up others when they fall.

Alison Longbottom had been plagued with those thoughts her entire life, and by the time she needed them she was well and truly sick of them. Her mother’s family was strong Hufflepuff stock, a long line of half-Abbotts having sporting black and amber from near a century gone. Her mother took such pride in her house, taunting her beloved husband as he tried to plead the Gryffindor case through the years. Hannah Abbott was one of the best lawyers in Britain, though, and knew how to argue - the honey badger reigned supreme in the Longbottom household. 

Alison did her best, truly she did. She worked hard in school, she supported her little brother in any endeavour he had (up to and including a sudden determination to get to the moon by broom in recent months), she stood by her friends, and at the end of the week she could beat Louis Weasley off his broom when the pitch was empty. 

A Hufflepuff is loyal and true, sure, but this Hufflepuff is far from perfect.

 

-

 

When Megan Wood is announced Gryffindor captain in early fourth year, Alison rolls her eyes and sighs audibly. 

Wood is something of a Gryffindor legacy. Her father had been a legendary Keeper for the Windermere Wasps, her mother an international superstar as captain for New Zealand for far longer than Alison could even recall. Hogwarts legend even says that her dad was the one to teach Professor Potter about Quidditch in the first place, but whether that’s true or not, Ali’d have to question Uncle Harry another time. 

Megan Wood is also, among other things, a bit of a prat.

The  _ most  _ Gryffindor, the other houses agree. She’s a year ahead of Ali- about six foot tall, stunning, leggy, and aggressively charming. At every match she’s the loudest, the proudest, the one getting the most attention. Although, even Alison, with the minimal interest she possesses, can’t deny the girl is a wonder on a broom, but she still doesn’t seem to have much of a personality.  _ Vapid _ , that’s how Rosie would describe her (although Alison’s fairly sure Rosie has a notion of Wood’s younger brother, so maybe best not to bring them up).

Leading the cheers is one Jamie Potter, rosie-cheeked and sappy-eyed as he congratulates his new captain. Alison stands behind him, rolling her eyes so many times that she’s a bit dizzy by the time they’re walking away, Jamie half-skipping in tow. 

It’s still warm for September, and Louis is taking the opportunity to nap under one of the old beech trees out by the lake. As they approach his secluded spot, Alison spots Ru pegging clumps of dried grass at his friend amid a gang of laughing Slytherins spread out on the grass. The girl shrieks and runs off as Ali struggles to remember her name. Ru was irritatingly popular these days, and at times it’s hard to keep track. 

“Hear the good news?” Louis speaks before either of them have the chance to dump their bags, not even opening his eyes. “Thought you’d be delighted wifey’s the boss now.”

Alison snorts, plopping down on the grass beside him while Jamie huffs and puffs, searching for an answer.

“Megan’s a very good player,” he stumbles, throwing his bag so it lands with a thump on his cousin’s stomach. “I think she’ll bring a lot to the team, is all.”

“Like her lovely hair and her pretty smile and-”

“Piss off, Cabbage,” Jamie grunts, begrudgingly sitting down. His glasses are missing, Alison notes with another roll of the eyes. He’d probably shoved them deep down in his bag the second he’d seen Megan Wood strutting in their direction.

“C’mon, Jimbo, I’m only joking,” Louis grins, opening his eyes just enough to catch Jamie’s glare. “Half the school fancies Wood, anyways, you’re nothing special.”

“Even Carter Walliams would,” Alison remarks, nodding at her friend. “If he’d ever get over Victoire.”

“Don’t even mention it,” Louis groans, squeezing his eyes shut again. “She got stuck with him in London last week and he held her up for, like, an hour, talking about how good they were even though they went out for, what? Three months? Two years ago?”

“Teddy’s doing his nut over it,” Jamie snickers, routing round in his bag for something, his wand tucked safely behind his left ear. “Reckons the poor sod is half-stalking Vicky.”

“Just as well he knows dad’s a wolf, I’d say,” Louis says with a bark. “Might be the only deterrent we have for home.”

“Hope Megan has something like that,” Alison says plainly, staring straight at Jamie. “Might need it, the rate Jay’s goin’ at.”

Louis bursts out laughing, cackling as it becomes Ali’s turn to be pegged with grass by a Potter brother. 

 

-

 

The first match of the year is Gryffindor vs Slytherin, one fresh Saturday morning in early November. Ru and Jamie have yet to speak, having ignored each other since the latter’s birthday last week. They sit at opposite sides of the Great Hall for breakfast, each glaring vaguely in the other’s direction as a gaggle of unimpressed cousins sit generally in between. 

Harry strolls in the door of the hall, takes a quick glance at either son, and swiftly decides the safest path to the teacher’s table is between the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables.

Alison collects her friend Emma from the common room at ten and drags her towards the pitch for half, barely squishing into place amid crowds of already screaming red and green. A flash of bright orange catches her eye as she looks round. Harry has decided to don a Chudley Cannons jersey- truly neutral. With a snicker she glances round, waving at Jamie and Louis’ other friends- Matty sports a huge lion head Aunty Luna would be proud of, Steph is screaming her head off, and AJ looks mildly confused but enthusiastic nevertheless. 

“Which Weasley gets knocked off, odds on?” Emma asks, tucking her scarf tighter round her neck. “My money’s on Domini-”

“If you even insinuate that Dominique Weasley would  _ let  _ herself be knocked off a broom,” Alison raises an eyebrow at the bundle of wool and tufts of sandy curls beside her. “This entire stand will attack you.”

“God, Gryffindors really are an unhealthy bunch,” she sighs, so polite and proper even in her insults. “I don't know how you handle them, Ally, honestly.”

Alison shrugs, turning her attention back to the pitch as a roar erupts from the surrounding crowd. In blur of scarlet and emerald, the two teams emerge, flying into position. Jamie dons number three, Louis in five, and Wood in one, circling the hoops like a prowling lion. If she squints, Ali can just about make out Ru, sitting steady in the clouds just above the rest of the players. His competitor zig-zags around him- he's a sixth year, to the best of her knowledge, but she couldn’t be sure. 

She’s that busy staring into the heavens she nearly misses the quaffle being thrown in, with Samantha Accrington zooming in for the grab before Roxy Weasley can blink. Within thirty minutes, Slytherin are ninety-nil, and Ali is desperately wishing to be standing beside anyone else.

“What do they think they’re at?” Matty is shrieking to her left. “I mean, is it that bloody hard to score,  _ really _ ?”

“Clearly,” AJ scoffs, pulls his hat further down over his ears in the cold. “Or else  _ you’d  _ have made the team.”

Wood is circling the hoops, glowering at any Slytherin who dares come near her. She’s on an off day, and a pathetic part of Ali can’t help but dance with glee.

“She’s probably just stressed with being captain and all,” Emma says to her right, trying to calm a distressed Gryffindor she’s crammed in beside. “Poor thing, she’s just not herself today.”

Jamie is seething, only stopping to spare an odd glance round for the seekers- for Ru, Ali can tell. There’s a special kind of panic each of the Potter boys gets whenever the other is succeeding, that innate worry and envy driven by their rivalry. 

Like lightning, Dominique Weasley seems to sweep in from nowhere, grabbing the quaffle and speeding through the Slytherin hoops to thunderous cheers from the red stands. She does a lap of honour past her adoring subjects, before scoring another two times just for good luck. She’s truly a God to these students, Ali remarks, suddenly understanding the awestruck way people always spoke about Charlie Weasley (she’d only met Jamie’s Uncle Charlie twice, but she’d heard enough stories from a certain generation of Hogwarts alum to know he could’ve beaten even Victor Krum twelve times over). 

With a sudden snap, the atmosphere in the stands changes as someone cops that the seekers are on the move. From high in the clouds, a green blur blasts down for the teachers stand. Ali can just about make out the beam on Harry’s face as Ru whizzes past, chasing with his opponent to within a grasp of the snitch. 

The other players are distracted themselves, all of them absentmindedly playing while focusing the majority of their attention on the seekers as they speed around the pitch in a frenzy. They’ve once more pierced the clouds when, while squinting to watch, a bludger appears out of nowhere to smack Jamie dead on. The stands gasp and his friends cry out in horror as he drops from the sky. Quicker than Ali could even comprehend what had happened, suddenly there’s another blur of green from the clouds as Ru dives to catch his brother. The Gryffindor seeker appears as the boys reach the ground, snitch triumphantly in hand as Ru cradles a clearly unconscious Jamie against his chest. 

“There’s blood everywhere,  _ Merlin,” _ Steph gasps, shoving the boys to get moving. “God knows what damage he’s done, c’mon!”

There’s a cry of  _ “Accio!”  _ and suddenly Harry’s arriving at the boys’ side on Jamie’s broom, grabbing his sons and checking Jamie’s face. The two teams have settled uneasily around him, the three cousins present huddling tensely together a few steps behind Ru. Ali can’t quite see what’s wrong, but she can just make out that her godfather is barking orders hurriedly- presumably to fetch Nurse Leila. 

She jumps suddenly as Emma grabs her hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze. “He’ll be fine, Alison,” she promises, offering a tissue for the tears Ali hadn’t realised where appearing in the corners of her eyes. “He’s Jamie Potter- he’s always fine.”

**Author's Note:**

> title from 'tiny dancer' by elton john


End file.
